Ich, der Mensch
I'm a lot of things. I own a lot of labels. I identify with a lot of traits.
I'm human. I'm Jewish. I'm Swiss. I'm an opinionated fuck. A confrontational asshole. An indifferent acquaintance. A loyal friend. I'm quiet, but capable of an unfortunate amount of words.
I'm recovering from a burnout. I'm recovering from severe depression. I babysit my brain like it's the thinnest layer of ice I'll ever tread on.
But I embrace life. I jump with both feet. I don't shy away from challenge. I pick my festering mental scabs raw. I find peace in spaces that push me, figuratively and literally.
I'm a son. A brother. A husband. An uncle. A friend. A colleague. An aquaintance. Somebody. Nobody.
I'm a man. Tripping over my own brain. My thoughts. My words. I succeed and I fail, like all humans.
It just happens that I, a man, like men and married one.
"Gay" is one aspect of who I am. And I'd like to not be so narrowly framed. I don't want to be abbreviated to a label. I don't want to be shoved into a box of someone else's making, for the sole reason that treating each other as "humans" is an apparently dead practice.
I'm good with being judged for my actual faults. That I can be an asshole. That I can be unforgiving. That I'm needlessly confrontational. Unnecessarily blunt. Unapologetically...whatever the fuck I am. The list really, really goes on.
This...this is actually what my Pride month goes to.
If you're gonna hate me? Hate me for me. Human to human, hate me for who I actually am, not for what my dick gets excited by. Not for what I do behind closed doors, where it's none of your fucking business.
If you're gonna hate others? Hate them for them. Who they actually are. Not a preconceived notion of who and what they must be, based on a label that has nothing to do with the very core of what makes them human.
Ich, der Mensch
I'm a lot of things. I own a lot of labels. I identify with a lot of traits.
I'm human. I'm Jewish. I'm Swiss. I'm an opinionated fuck. A confrontational asshole. An indifferent acquaintance. A loyal friend. I'm quiet, but capable of an unfortunate amount of words.
I'm recovering from a burnout. I'm recovering from severe depression. I babysit my brain like it's the thinnest layer of ice I'll ever tread on.
But I embrace life. I jump with both feet. I don't shy away from challenge. I pick my festering mental scabs raw. I find peace in spaces that push me, figuratively and literally.
I'm a son. A brother. A husband. An uncle. A friend. A colleague. An aquaintance. Somebody. Nobody.
I'm a man. Tripping over my own brain. My thoughts. My words. I succeed and I fail, like all humans.
It just happens that I, a man, like men and married one.
"Gay" is one aspect of who I am. And I'd like to not be so narrowly framed. I don't want to be abbreviated to a label. I don't want to be shoved into a box of someone else's making, for the sole reason that treating each other as "humans" is an apparently dead practice.
I'm good with being judged for my actual faults. That I can be an asshole. That I can be unforgiving. That I'm needlessly confrontational. Unnecessarily blunt. Unapologetically...whatever the fuck I am. The list really, really goes on.
This...this is actually what my Pride month goes to.
If you're gonna hate me? Hate me for me. Human to human, hate me for who I actually am, not for what my dick gets excited by. Not for what I do behind closed doors, where it's none of your fucking business.
If you're gonna hate others? Hate them for them. Who they actually are. Not a preconceived notion of who and what they must be, based on a label that has nothing to do with the very core of what makes them human.